My body shook as my wife took an aspirin for her pounding headache. I looked over at her,
trying to look underneath the bloodshot eyes and shaking fingers to find the source of her problems. She couldn t look at me, she was too ashamed. The endless cycle of getting drunk,
getting hung over and giving apologies had repeated once again. My wife had been beautiful whenever I married her. Her dark curls flowing perfectly down past her shoulders, her blue eyes glittering, and the radiance of her smile had stunned me into silence. The first morning of our marriage, as I held her in my arms, she had told me how I was the only person she ever wanted to be with. My life had been paradise, and the day when the adoption agency had called, telling us an expecting mother wanted to give her baby to us had just made my life more complete. It was right after when it started. I found bottles of gin and bourbon hidden under couch cushions, a flask of whiskey in the glove compartment of her Mercedes, even schnapps in the chandelier in our dining room. Things started to change. She became secretive, and whenever I told her of the things I had found, she would scream at me, and throw tantrums I had never seen before. Drew had warned me about this, after (for the first and last time) he went to rehab, trying for once in his life to help his kids, that Whenever you get addicted, you re done.
Life is over. What you used to control now controls you. He said-his eyelids droopy from years of being with Bianca, and years of taking drugs. I watched as my brother slipped into a bottomless pit of drugs, and I couldn t stop him. I wouldn t let that happen to my wife. Fiona tried to walk past me, but my hand grabbed her wrist. I pulled her wrist up to my shoulder, and held it there until she looked into my eyes. She was almost sober, for the first time in three days. I kissed her fingertips, tracing the fingernails that she had used to spend hours filing and painting. Her eyes were watery, but something told me that it wasn t from the alcohol. She tried to glance away whenever I pulled her close but I grabbed her chin and tilted her head towards mine. I kissed her tears away, trying to take her pain away. I pressed my lips against hers gently, and God, I was terrified when she almost pulled away. She tasted different. The taste she used to have, mint and honey, was now swirled and swallowed by alcohol. I kissed her harder, hunting for the tastes I longed for. She kissed back, hesitantly. That wasn t what I wanted. I pulled her into our bedroom, and laid her down gently. I pushed myself next to her,
and started to kiss her neck. I couldn t help her, and I was trying to heal her the only way I knew how. When I was a kid, after my dad left, leaving me and my mother alone with no money, my mom pulled me into her arms and kissed me. it s okay, Gracie girl. She whispered. Mommy will kiss it and make it all better. At four years old, uncomfortable in my own skin, I knew better. But I wished so much I could change it. I kissed away her tears, and whenever she tried to protest her special treatment, I would kiss her lips.
Just stop. I whispered. If you love me, if you love our baby, stop. I lovingly kissed her tears away. Adam. She whispered, her blue eyes full of anguish. I can t.
Eli s POV
The doctor led us to a small quiet room, where our daughter lay. Clare s knees buckled when she saw her, and I barely could hold her up. Eli. She whispered, terrified. I reached down,
wanting to touch my baby s porcelain skin. Her eyes were closed, the lashes clinging together in a way that was unnatural, shielding the eyes I would never get to see again. The doctor was behind us, mumbling apologies. Clare had slumped to the floor, screaming. My daughter was more peaceful in death then she was in life. She was so still. As coldness sealed my heart I gently picked up the blanket that had been kicked to her feet, and pulled it up to her chin. It s okay, baby girl. I whispered gently, lying to myself. I pressed my lips to her cold chalky cheek.
Eli? Eli, babe, are you okay? Clare asked, glancing over at me while she fed our daughter.
I was shaking, and gasping in lungs full of air. I looked at the plastic chair I had fallen asleep in. Clare, where s the baby? Where s Celia? What happened? I yelped. Where was my baby?
Was she okay? Eli, she s right here. Clare said, rocking her. I stumbled over to my baby girl,
looking down at her. Her eyes, wide and alert, rolled towards me, and then back to her mother.
Her flushed cheeks, proving that she was alive, were smooth and her lips twisted as she began to cry, still hungry. Her mother fed her as I stared in amazement. My nightmare had been so real. I m sorry, Blue Eyes, I just had a nightmare. Oh my God, it was so bad. Celia squirmed and I held out my arms, and Clare placed my little angel in them. I bounced her gently, clinging to my very alive child.
A/N Good, bad? I tried to put more effort into this one because the last one sucked. To review: Everything that happened with the Torres s happened, but the incident with Celia almost dying was just Eli dreaming. Any ideas for another chapter, next story, or whether I should quit writing this story? New story coming soon. FIVE REVIEWS TO UPDATE! IF YOU READ THE STORY, ONE WORD IS ALL IT TAKES TO LEAVE A REVIEW! YOUR REVIEWS MAKE MY DAY GUYS!